


The Way I See You

by orphan_account



Series: Safe Haven Tales [2]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boys Kissing, Brenda is love Brenda is life, Brenda's got nicknames y'all, Depressed Newt, Depression, Everyone is an idiot, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hair Pulling, M/M, No Plot, So much kissing, Thomas has matured a bit, bossy newt, excessive use of Tommy, kids are too smart, parenting is hard, stupid love and universe metaphors, talking is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 05:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A few years after arriving in the Safe Haven with their daughter, Newt and Thomas enjoy each other's company but also struggle a bit with parenting and fitting in to their new lives without the threat of WCKD hanging over their heads. Newt discovers that talking is a thing one should do semi-often, and that being a parent adds a whole new complicated layer to certain things.A fluffy, smutty fix-it to canon.





	The Way I See You

**Author's Note:**

> Started out as a challenge to myself to write smut (for the first time ever!) - turned into something quite a bit more.

“Dad, why do you sound different from everyone else?”

“What do you mean, love?” Even as he asked it, in a teasing tone, Newt heard it in his own voice. The way the words “what” and “do” slurred together, the way the “o” in love sounded somehow rounder than when Thomas said it. 

“You know.” Lizzy fidgeted from her spot laying on Newt’s chest, playing with the collar of his shirt. 

“Oh, I don’t think I sound different,” he said, stroking her hair. “Now your father, _he’s_ got a different voice. You’ve heard it, yeah?” Newt tried to imitate Tommy, his mouth pulling to one side as he pitched his voice higher, spoke through his teeth, emphasized the “s”s and “t”s with a slight vocal fry: “It’s time for bed, Lizzy.”

The girl laughed.

“That doesn’t sound like daddy at _all_.” Newt huffed out a laugh, but she wasn’t finished. “And anyway, you sound _really_ weird. No one talks like you.”

“Easy now,” he said in his normal voice, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’ll hurt my feelings.”

“But _why?_” Lizzy was insistent, her voice shifting to a whine, and Newt lifted an eyebrow as he recognized the signs of pouting in the set of her lips. He only hummed in response, enjoying this moment, enjoying teasing her and drawing out all the different reactions that made her so very _Lizzy._ The ropes of the hammock creaked as it swayed gently in the same salty breeze that ruffled Lizzy’s curls and tugged at the light fabric of his white linen shirt. He closed his eyes, and smiled when he heard Lizzy huff and felt her tug at his shirt again. 

When he opened his eyes again she was looking at him with light amber eyes the color of honey that were alight with curiosity, while her dark eyebrows demanded answers. Newt felt a pleasant sort of thrill at the thought that despite the fact that neither he nor Thomas were related to her by blood, she couldn’t have looked more like Tommy than she did in that moment. It was easy to forget that she was bound to them only by promises and love, her biological parents long dead, victims of one of the many dangers of the Scorch.

“I come from a different part of the world, love. That’s all.” His hand came to rest on her back, gently pressing her to his chest. She was getting bigger every day, it seemed, and he felt a brief flash of sorrow at the fact that the day was soon approaching that she wouldn’t crave this contact with him anymore. He had to enjoy it, every last second of it, and maybe that was why he was so slow to answer. As long as she had questions, she would stay here, with him.

“Where?”

“Well, I don’t know.” He thought for a moment, wondering how much to tell her. He truly didn’t know very much himself. “You remember the story of the Maze and the evil queen?” Lizzy nodded. “Well, the people she put in the Maze came from all sorts of different places. Somewhere, out there,” he nodded to the ocean, though Lizzy’s attention was rapt on his face, “are loads of people who sound just like me. But they must be far away, because you’re right, I’ve never met any of them.”

“Are we gonna go there someday?”

“No,” Newt said firmly, placing a kiss on her forehead to take some of the sting out of the response. “We’re going to stay right here, where it’s safe.”

Even though Lizzy seemed satisfied with the answer - at least for the moment - all at once it felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him, and his stomach sank. Newt swallowed nervously, and stared up at the tarp overhead that shaded them from the intense midday sun. _Not now,_ he thought, pleading with himself. Not when everything was so wonderful. Not when he had Lizzy in his arms, now was _not_ the time for all the colors to drain away, for everything to grow distant and detached.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Lizzy?” Newt looked down at her and forced a wide smile that felt unnatural, almost as if the muscles in his face had forgotten how to form the expression. Lizzy was looking at him oddly - or was that his imagination?

“Can I go play with Benny?”

“Of course,” he replied, and hated himself for the relief that flooded him at the possibility of being alone for a time. He didn’t _want_ to want to be alone. He wanted back the feeling of being afraid of letting his daughter go. He wanted to cherish her presence but at the moment he just felt tired. And he didn’t want her to notice that he wasn’t acting like he had been a few moments ago.

* * *

Newt finished putting Lizzy to bed, laying the girl down gently on the clean sheets that smelled faintly of soap and drawing the soft blue blanket up to her chin. When he turned to leave he saw Thomas standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with one ankle crossed over the other, arms folded at his chest and head tilted so that his brown hair brushed against the wall. The corner of Newt’s mouth ticked up, a brief flicker of affection that was quickly subsumed into his usual stoic expression. The flame of adoration that lit in his heart at the sight of his lover, his partner, his friend, never faded though. Newt crossed the room and as he brushed past Thomas he let one hand trail over the other man’s forearm, drawing the brunette into his wake.

Newt and Thomas had never needed words to communicate, and they were silent now as one followed the other into their bedroom, careful not to wake their daughter with needless chatter. Thomas closed the door quietly behind him, the soft _snick_ of the doorknob almost loud in the thick silence that hung between them. It was a warm, summer night and there were crickets trilling outside their open window, the smell of salt off the nearby ocean filling the room even as the soft sound of lapping waves, distant roars and gentle swells pushed in around them. 

Thomas had never had a choice when it came to Newt. His feet carried him forward of their own accord. His hand came up to cup the side of Newt’s face, one thumb tracing over the small scar beneath his left eye. Those dark eyes were the most beautiful black holes, sucking him in to Newt’s orbit through a magnetism he couldn’t fight. He didn’t want to. The way Newt subtly tilted his chin into Thomas’s hand, the way his eyelids lowered just a fraction made Thomas weak. Newt’s power was in his restraint - the fact that Thomas _knew_ what intensity lurked behind the slightest shift in his expression. 

His fingers were curled around the back of Newt’s neck beneath his ear, twining in the soft locks of blonde hair, pressing gently against his skin. Come here. Come _closer._ Always closer, ever since he’d first met Newt that terrifying day in the Glade, when nothing had made sense except for the calming presence of the boy with hair like the sun and a smile so beautiful it burned. From the start Thomas had craved proximity. For so long he’d only gotten brief flashes of it, a few quick gasps of air. Newt touching his arm as he showed him around the Glade. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with their backs against a fallen log as light from the bonfire poured like golden honey on Newt’s outstretched arm. Thomas pulling Newt to his feet after saving him from a crank in an abandoned mall in the Scorch, unable to stop himself from putting a hand on the blonde man’s chest so he could feel his heartbeat for himself, his breath freezing in his lungs when Newt called him ‘Tommy’ for the first time. 

Now, though…now there was nothing keeping them apart. No hesitation born of mirrored confusion - _‘Does he feel the way I do? Could he possibly? Do I deserve him? Is it wrong?’_ No armored grunts and flying tanks dogging their trail. No more running, no more fear, no more infection or Maze or Ava Paige. There was nothing keeping Thomas from pulling Newt into his arms and filling his lungs with the oxygen that only existed around his best friend and the love of his life. Newt stepped into the embrace, but instead of the kiss that Thomas expected he simply pressed the side of his face against Thomas’s, tilting his head down so his nose brushed against the brunette’s neck.

“Tommy,” he said simply, and in that single word Thomas realized all at once that Newt had been having one of his bad days. His heart clenched painfully and he blinked.

“You’re getting good at hiding them from me,” he said softly, tracing a finger along the inside of Newt’s wrist. “I don’t think I like that.”

Newt didn’t respond, except by lifting his arms to wrap them around Thomas’s neck, burying his face now between his arm and Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas wrapped his arms tight around Newt, pressing him against his chest and moving one hand up and down his back soothingly.

“Everything is so good now,” Newt whispered. “Everything is perfect.” But the way he said it sounded hollow. Thomas immediately knew what Newt was thinking - they had had similar conversations before. He squeezed his arms even tighter, as tight as he possibly could, earning a little gasp from Newt.

“Please tell me from now on. You know I won’t make a big deal out of it, I just…want to know. I want to help you.”

“I shouldn’t need help.”

“Everyone needs help sometimes.” 

Newt didn’t say anything to that, but Thomas thought he felt a bit of the tension leave his shoulders. He seemed to sink into Thomas, his posture more relaxed, his body warm and pliant in Thomas’s arms.

“Sometimes I worry,” he murmured. “I wonder when Lizzy will find out, or if she’s noticed already.” Thomas’s heart ached at the deep _sadness_ he heard in Newt’s voice. All at once he felt wetness on his neck, realized that Newt was blinking back tears. “I don’t want her to ever think…that it’s her fault.” His voice cracked and Newt quickly cleared his throat, reaching up to angrily brush away the tears. “Stupid,” he muttered.

“It’s _not_ stupid,” Thomas said forcefully. “And neither are you. I think the fact that you’re worrying about Lizzy when you’re the one who’s suffering just shows what an amazing person you are. And _that’s_ what Lizzy will always see you as - an _amazing person._” Even though Newt was nodding along Thomas knew that he wasn’t taking the words to heart, but he wanted so much for Newt to believe it, to see himself the way Thomas saw him, the way he knew Lizzy saw him.

“Suffering,” Newt repeated, followed by a breath of joyless laughter. “A bit dramatic there, Tommy. Everything is fine. I’m fine.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Thomas opened his mouth to respond but at the last second decided not to say anything. Instead he just hummed and shifted his hand to the back of Newt’s neck. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his nose into that blonde hair and breathed in deeply.

“I love you,” he said, exhaling forcefully so that his breath ruffled Newt’s hair.

“I love you too, Tommy.” 

A pleasant shiver ran straight down Newt’s spine as he felt Thomas’s breath in his hair and fanning across his neck. He felt completely safe wrapped up in Thomas’s strong arms, and a bit of the disinterest started to fade, the clouds parting, like he was slowly coming back to life. He always felt more alive around Thomas. It wasn’t that everything was fixed that easily - no, it wasn’t fixed, but it was _better_. And even marginally better was a relief when he felt so low, like he would never feel happy again. Even the pleasant tingle of his skin pressed against Thomas’s was a relief, like a drug that he couldn’t get enough of. _Feeling something_ was enough, and he always felt something when he was with Tommy.

Impulsively, Newt pulled back from the embrace just far enough to place a gentle kiss on lips that were as familiar to him as his own.

He knew that Thomas would never make a move after learning that Newt was feeling so vulnerable. But he wanted this, suddenly, desperately. He craved the contact that they shared each night after Lizzy fell asleep, perhaps more so now than ever. His lips parted and his hand came up to grasp the back of Thomas’s neck as he deepened the kiss, tugging gently on Thomas’s hair when it felt like the brunette was pulling away.

“Please, Tommy,” Newt breathed, smiling as he pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed.

“Newt, if you’re not feeling well…” Thomas already sounded out of breath and Newt opened his eyes just so he could see the half-lidded gaze he knew was there, his love’s amber eyes hazy and sparkling in the moonlight that spilled through the open window.

“I am.” He punctuated it with a quick kiss. “I’m fine.” Another kiss. “I really am.” A third kiss, but this time he didn’t break away, instead parting his lips to take Thomas’s bottom lip briefly between his teeth. Then his tongue darted out, hesitant, waiting until he felt Thomas’s reluctance give way, and when it did Newt threw himself into the kiss, his tongue exploring Thomas’s mouth while he gasped at the heat. Thomas’s scent was intoxicating - wood smoke and pine and cinnamon, so uniquely _Tommy_ he couldn’t get enough, he needed more. His tongue slid along Thomas’s, curling, probing every corner of his mouth while his eyes squeezed shut and he forgot to breathe. 

Thomas broke away to gasp for air and Newt did as well, though he would have happily drowned himself in Thomas. His hips pressed forward and both boys moaned at the heat pooling in their guts and the spark of electricity that tingled on their skin. Newt felt like his entire body was inflamed, like there was fire in his veins instead of blood. They came back together for another long kiss and suddenly Newt’s hands were moving, falling down Thomas’s shoulders until they reached his hips and then pushing up under his shirt. He spent a brief moment stroking his hips, fingers tracing along the dip between his hip bones and the muscles of his stomach, falling down to the space beneath his navel until he brushed against the top of his pants…and then shooting up along his back, fingers spread wide and palms pressed against his impossibly soft skin, relishing the muscles he felt dancing beneath his touch as Thomas groaned and tensed and pressed forward.

Newt’s touch was _insane._ No matter how many times they came together like this it never failed to drive Thomas out of his mind. Just feeling those strong hands and long fingers stroking his back sent shivers down his spine. It felt like a white-hot metal hook had pierced his stomach and was pulling him towards Newt. He couldn’t believe there had ever been a time when he hadn’t shared this intimacy with the dark-eyed blonde who was currently looking down at him with an expression that literally made Thomas’s knees shake. _Fuck,_ he needed more. Now.

As if sensing the thought, or suddenly losing patience - or both - Newt started pressing Thomas backwards towards their bed while his hands fell and began undoing Thomas’s pants. The movement was so sudden - and so unbelievably _hot_ \- that Thomas, every nerve on fire and his brain stuttering to a halt, felt himself stumbling back. He grabbed onto Newt’s shirt for balance while the blonde laughed softly and steadied him with strong hands grasping his hips. 

“Careful, love,” he spoke breathily into Thomas’s mouth, teasing and affectionate. Somehow those words, that particular tone of voice was enough to send a blazing streak of pure pleasure coursing through his stomach. He groaned softly as his pants became uncomfortably tight. In one smooth motion Newt lifted Thomas’s shirt up and stripped him of the garment, tossing it aside as he ran his hands over Tommy’s chest, fingertips briefly grazing the sensitive skin of his nipples.

“I don’t deserve you,” Thomas gasped, the words bubbling up out of nowhere, and laughing despite the fact that he was deadly serious. Thomas wasn’t sure that _anyone_ deserved to feel as good as he did when he was with Newt - except for Newt himself, of course, and Thomas would do anything to make that happen. He wanted nothing more from the world in that moment than to see Newt’s mouth open and eyes hazed over in ecstasy. He wanted to be the person to give Newt as much pleasure as humanly possible _and then some._ He wanted to hear him whisper his name and dig his fingernails into Thomas’s shoulders as he came undone beneath him.

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” Newt replied, breaking him from his thoughts as the blonde tugged sharply on his hair. The motion ignited sparks in his gut and sent a shiver down his spine.

“Mmmm,” Thomas hummed in the back of his throat. “Again.” 

Newt obeyed, grabbing the hair at the back of his head and pulling none too gently. One hand came up to cup Thomas’s jaw as the brunette tilted his head back, eyes fluttering closed. His neck was exposed and Newt eyed it hungrily for a beat, holding himself back as long as he could so he could admire the tanned skin, the swooping lines of Thomas’s neck and shoulder and collarbone that begged to be touched. His self-restraint crumbled and he dove forward, mouth open as he began to lick and nip and kiss along his neck, releasing a quiet moan that vibrated the other man’s skin, his breath stuttering and uneven. 

Thomas was beautiful, he was perfect, he was _everything_. Newt’s thoughts started to unravel as his hips bucked and his erection pressed against Thomas’s through too many layers of clothes. His stomach fluttered while his heart beat erratically in his chest. He plastered himself against the other man, staggering their legs so there was contact all the way down from chest to stomach to thighs to knees, lips moving from his neck to his perfect collarbone, tonguing the skin there as he listened to Thomas’s ragged breaths. Suddenly he felt Thomas’s hands pushing up his shirt, his thumb stroking directly down his spine before hands were cupping his ass and pulling him forward.

“Sit down,” Newt whispered, eyes closed as his mouth finally left Thomas’s neck only so he could plunge his tongue deep into Thomas’s mouth. The soft command was like a magic spell; Thomas’s knees buckled and he hit the bed, pulling Newt down with him. The blonde straddled him, folding his long legs so he was pressed against Thomas, moving his hips now with every stroke of his tongue in Tommy’s mouth. His cock strained against his trousers and his hand fell to paw at the bulge in Thomas’s pants, rubbing and pressing with the heel of his hand. It was the cruelest foreplay, stripping every single thought from Thomas’s brain as he moaned into Newt’s mouth, hands moving over the blonde’s chest under his shirt, pulling him closer in a frantic effort to achieve more contact, he needed _more_.

“Oh my god,” Newt finally broke away from the kiss, panting, frustration thick in his voice. “Take these fucking pants off, Tommy.” 

Thomas laughed.

“You’re impatient tonight,” he teased, as if every nerve in his body wasn’t firing, as if cymbals weren’t clashing in his head whenever Newt stroked him like that even over the thick fabric of his jeans. It _was_ amusing, though. Normally Newt took immense satisfaction in teasing Thomas. He always seemed to be the one in control, guiding Thomas where he wanted him, driving him to the edge of oblivion while he scrambled to reciprocate. Those times were as frustrating as they were fun; but there was something about the way Newt was looking at him now that was different, that said he needed something else.

“Alright.” Thomas kissed Newt’s nose. “But you first.” He grabbed Newt’s hips and flipped him around, pinning him to the bed and relishing the surprised gasp and smile that spread across that handsome face. Newt’s hands came up to hold either side of Thomas’s face, stroking his cheeks and twining in his hair as Thomas kissed him, all while quickly unbuttoning Newt’s pants and tugging them down. He abandoned that effort for the moment so he could push his hands up under Newt’s shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and mussing up the blonde’s hair in the process. Newt was looking at him with pupils blown wide and hair laying in all directions against the pillow but Thomas didn’t stop to admire the view; instead he began kissing down Newt’s chest, skipping over the scar just to the left of his sternum as he made his way towards his navel.

Thomas had to sit up to finish removing Newt’s pants from his _impossibly_ long and slender and gorgeous legs, though it was difficult to find the willpower to remove his mouth for even a second from that pale, smooth skin. He did away with Newt’s boxers in the same motion and then there was nothing stopping him from taking Newt into his hand, holding himself up with one forearm pressed against the bed next to Newt’s head as he kissed him deeply and began stroking his cock.

“Ohh, fuck, Thomas,” Newt moaned, his voice deep and rough, accent coming through thick as he closed his eyes and relinquished himself to the moment. Feeling Thomas’s hand around him, gentle and firm as he stroked his cock in a slow and steady rhythm, it was…was…words. What were words? Shivers ran up and down his spine and he began thrusting his hips before Thomas shifted so that he was pinning Newt even more firmly against the bed. A little whine escaped from the back of his throat. Newt began pawing at Thomas’s pants, angry at himself for not getting the damn things off sooner, but Thomas let go of him only long enough to smack his hands away. Newt felt his smile as Thomas pressed their lips together, taking Newt into his hand again.

“Nope,” Thomas panted. “Just you, I just…want to see you…” He silenced Newt’s moan with a deep kiss full of tongue and heat and _need_. He began moving a little faster, finishing off each stroke of Newt’s cock by running a thumb over the head, and soon the sounds were tumbling from Newt’s lips in a near constant stream and he felt the man beneath him buck. It was all incredibly hot to Thomas and he was almost painfully hard at that point, but he was too caught up in the absolute beauty of Newt on the edge of ecstasy to care. Newt’s hands were moving constantly, stroking his hair and neck and down his back and Thomas shuddered, releasing a little groan when Newt opened his eyes and he stared into their black depths.

“Tommy,” Newt gasped, “Fuck, Tommy, _please._” He pushed against Thomas’s chest with shaking hands and the brunette’s hand froze. 

“Are you okay?” Thomas blinked, looking down at Newt. 

“Oh god, _yes_,” Newt pulled Thomas’s head down to him by his hair, kissing him as his hips lifted off the bed so he could feel Thomas’s erection against his own. “But I want, I want _you_, I want…” Newt trailed off, words failing him as he started fiddling with Thomas’s pants instead. Thomas groaned and lost all sense of restraint, giving up his earlier plans to focus entirely on Newt. He quickly divested himself of his own pants and boxers and then pressed himself against Newt, taking a moment just to enjoy the feeling of skin against skin.

“Clothes,” Newt groaned around another kiss, “Are terrible. Stupid. I hate them.”

“Right?” Thomas laughed breathily, running a hand through Newt’s hair, catching the blonde locks between his fingers. “Who even invented them?”

“Sadists. The worst sorts of people. Ava Paige.”

“Oh my god, Newt, _please_ don’t talk about that bitch when my dick is out.”

Newt dissolved into giggles.

“Maybe I need to do something else with my mouth, then,” he said, running a hand up Thomas’s arm and caressing his face.

“Just kiss me.” 

“Mmm, that’s not very creative, Tommy.” 

“Newt, if you do that, I’m gonna cum, like, _immediately._” They were talking around a passionate kiss with tongues dueling back and forth as both boys slid their hips against each other, the friction driving them both mad. 

“And?” Newt teased.

And? _And??_ Thomas’s face fell.

“Don’t you want to feel me inside of you?” He asked, a genuine question in a voice like a petulant child. Isn’t that what Newt had meant by ‘I want, I want, I want’?

Newt let out a bark of laughter so loud that Thomas looked frantically at the door. He pressed a finger to Newt’s lips.

“Shh-h-h, c’mon man, you’re gonna wake up the Boss.” Thomas had to stifle his own laughter, though. Newt bit down on his lower lip, shoulders shaking in mirth. 

“Sorry, Tommy,” he managed. “Of course I do, of course. God, I love you.” He lifted his head to resume their kiss. That face Thomas had made had been so goddamn _adorable_, Newt felt his heart swelling in his chest until it was fit to burst. He had no idea what he’d done on this earth to deserve the love and tenderness of such a beautiful and perfect creature as Thomas. He was so _pure_. Newt was reminded of how he’d felt during the trials of their early years together, how he would have done _anything_ \- would have burnt the entire fucking world to ashes along with every last living soul in it - all for Thomas, anything for Thomas. That probably made him a bad person but he didn’t care. Thomas made him weak - and he made him strong. He was absolutely everything and the stars were only in the sky because Thomas had put them there.

While Newt was distracted with his admittedly _gross_ and _squishy_ and _sappy_ thoughts, Thomas was trailing kisses down his chest, and stomach, and the inside of his thigh, and…

Newt gasped.

“_No fair_,” he said, back arching up off the bed and hands grasping at the sheets as Thomas took him into his mouth. Thomas just hummed a response, which felt _incredible,_ and suddenly Newt was grasping for his sanity, distracting himself by cursing at Thomas. “Oh you bloody buggering - ” he gasped - “tricksy little _wanker_, you - _fuuuck_,” he moaned and closed his eyes as his awareness funneled to a point, the exact point where Thomas’s lips were soft and warm and wet around his dick, where he felt the heat of Tommy’s mouth all around him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ Oh, he was absolutely done for. Newt twisted the sheets in his hands, veins standing out on his arms as he tried to grasp onto something, believe in the firm reality of something that wasn’t Thomas. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once how eager his mind was to believe that _nothing_ existed outside of the way Tommy was touching him right now. The heat of every single star in every galaxy in the bloody universe was pulsing within him at that exact moment, and he absolutely couldn’t stand it for one second longer because _fuck_, he was only human. He felt the tingling sensation start in his extremities, quickly racing from the tips of his fingers and toes inward, rushing towards a single point.

“T-Tommy,” he gasped, his voice rising an octave or so, “Fuck, _Tommy - _” 

It was a warning and a plea and Thomas met it with that unbearable, wonderful-terrible mind-and-body-melting sensation of eager humming assent and suddenly Newt broke apart. His orgasm whipped through his body with the intense crackle of electricity and heat racing down his spine and out to every limb, every nerve singing a single note of pleasure that reverberated through to his very bones and wiped his mind clear of every thought he’d ever even _almost_ had. The pulling, sucking sensation of Thomas _swallowing_ \- because ohdeareverlovingfuckgodblesshimofcoursehedid - caused aftershocks that made Newt’s hips buck pathetically a few times before he was finally still and panting and completely spent and blinking down at Thomas who was looking up at him with a stupidly, devilishly handsome smile that he wanted to smack away and caress and worship at the same time. 

“_You_,” Newt panted accusingly, before his eyes closed and his head rolled to the side so he could hide his own stupid smile against the pillow.

“Me,” Thomas said, clearly immensely pleased with himself. Then, like a complete goddamn idiot and the huge, unbearable dork that he was, he patted Newt’s dick gently and whispered, “Good boy,” before climbing up the bed to flop down beside Newt.

Newt’s panting breaths gave way to exhausted, giddy, damn-near-delirious laughter at that ridiculous statement, his chest jerking as he threw one noodle-y, rubbery arm over Thomas. He rolled over and kissed the other man, not caring where his lips landed and nearly poking out Thomas’s eyeball with his nose. Whatever. Thomas was the one in control of all of his limbs at the moment, not Newt, so he could just _deal_.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he threatened through a smile.

“Sorry,” Thomas shrugged, not sounding or looking the least bit apologetic. “I got impatient. You can let me be selfish for once, right?”

“For once,” Newt repeated unbelievingly, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “The nerve of this one,” he said, talking about Thomas as if he weren’t there, as if Newt were addressing some higher power about the predicament he’d landed himself in the day he’d decided he loved the stupid, beautiful shank lying next to him.

“Now,” Newt said, dark gaze falling down to Thomas’s erection, still pressed poignantly against his thigh, “What are we gonna do about that?” 

The way Thomas’s eyes and smile lit up, puppy-dog-bright, caused Newt actual, physical pain in his chest, right around the vicinity of his stupid traitorous heart.

* * *

“Shit, shit,” Newt whispered frantically, one hand covering his face while the other was balled up at his stomach. He curled in on himself, drawing his knees up until they touched his forehead. He tried to breathe normally but it was like the air was snatched away as soon as he got ahold of it, and he released a few dry sobs. 

“Newt?” Thomas’s voice, slow and thick with sleep, drifted over to him. Newt squeezed his eyes shut, shivering as the breeze from their open window brushed against the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, Tommy,” he whispered back quickly. “Go to sleep.”

“You don’t sound…” Newt felt Thomas turning over in bed and cursed under his breath. “What’s wrong?”

Why did Thomas have to be such a light sleeper? 

“Nothing. Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.” Newt’s voice was clipped. Just a bad dream…well, that was putting it mildly. More like a hyperrealistic, mind-shattering nightmare. He remembered being on the beach, watching Lizzy and Thomas playing in the surf. He remembered being happy, smiling as he watched his little family enjoying the weather and each other’s company…until he’d started to cough. A tickle in his throat turned into a hacking, wet cough, and he bent over, spitting black sludge out onto the sand. He’d wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at it in horror. He remembered thinking _No, it can’t be back, it can’t be,_ and _I can’t do this again…_

Then it got worse.

He saw his hands moving on the sand. They were foreign things, attached to his body but completely out of his control. One of them disappeared from sight only to come back into view with…a knife. How had he gotten a knife? He hadn’t carried one on him since…

Then he was standing up. Everything in him cried out to stop, but he jerked forward, movements painful and uncoordinated as he took slow, lurching steps, towards the ocean, towards Thomas, towards…Lizzy…

He felt Thomas’s arm curling around him on the bed and Newt realized tears were streaming down his face. Thomas pulled him against his chest.

“Shhh. It was just a dream.” Thomas’s hand stroked his back. Newt didn’t respond. This wasn’t _like him._ He didn’t cry in front of anyone, not even Thomas. He didn’t cry at all. He was supposed to be the glue holding everyone else together; he couldn’t _afford_ moments like this. He couldn’t break down, not even a little, because once he started to crack where would it end? There was _so much_…too much…

Newt waited for the terror to fade away. Everyone had bad dreams sometimes, and they always seemed so real in the moments after waking up in the dark. But eventually the memory of it would fade, the fear would grow distant and dull. Reality would exert itself and everything would go back to normal…only, as the moments wore on he only felt himself growing more frantic. The thoughts were spiraling in his head and he clung desperately to Thomas, the other man’s solidity and warmth his only source of comfort. 

“I’m afraid, Tommy,” he admitted at last. He hated how small his voice sounded in the stillness of that summer night. Even the crickets had gone to sleep, but Newt was wide awake now. 

“It’s okay,” Thomas said immediately, misunderstanding him. “You’re safe, it’s okay, everything’s okay.” He thought it was still about the dream, so Newt shook his head.

“No. You don’t get it.” Newt took a shuddering breath, still on the verge of saying nothing, rolling over in bed and shutting Thomas out. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore the thoughts and, well…Thomas deserved to know what he was thinking. Just in case he was right. He pressed his forehead to Thomas’s chest, unable to look up at him, feeling deeply vulnerable, feeling _fragile_. “I’m afraid…I’m afraid I’ll get sick again.”

“You won’t,” was Thomas’s immediate answer, voice filled with absolute conviction. “We gave you the cure.”

“Thomas, you can’t know that. We don’t know _anything_. Just that it works…for now.” Newt swallowed, tensing his hands on Thomas’s arm when he felt the other man about to respond. “Tommy.” His voice was pathetically thin, like ice laced with spiderweb cracks. “What if the virus is still in me, what if it’s…waiting, what if it _comes back…_” He started shaking as his confession built, unable to hold back anymore, spilling out all of the thoughts he’d held inside for all the years since that awful day in the Last City. “I can’t do it anymore, Tommy. Every time I cough I wonder if this is it, if it’s coming back, if I’m going to - going to lose myself again…Sometimes my stomach will hurt and I’ll drive myself crazy wondering if it’s real or if I’m imagining it. The last time I threw up I - I couldn’t stop shaking, I was so scared, scared to look at it, scared that it would be black, and Thomas what if it does come back and I _hurt you_ or if I hurt Lizzy…” Newt began to cry in earnest, quiet sobs that he struggled to stifle. “I can’t, I can’t. I can’t.”

“Newt, I had no idea. I’m sorry, I wish…I wish I’d known you felt like this…”

“What good would it have done?” Newt finally tilted his head to look up at Thomas, unable to really make out the brunette’s face between the dark of their bedroom and the tears clouding his vision. “You can’t do anything. I just have to live with it, somehow.”

“Newt,” Thomas breathed, squeezing him tightly. “We’ve given other people the cure and no one has ever relapsed. There’s no reason to drive yourself crazy thinking about it. You’re okay, you’re here, you’re safe. You’re _cured._ It’s gone forever, it’s over with, I promise, okay? I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Tommy, I’m not…I’m not the same person I was before. It _changed_ me. It made me think…awful things…”

“That wasn’t you.”

“It _was!_” Newt cried. He snapped his mouth shut, continuing in hushed tones. “It was. _I_ thought those things - me, no one else. I’ll never forget them. They’re _here._” He tapped his forehead, desperate for Thomas to understand. In the next second he realized how useless the whole conversation was. He took a deep breath as a wall slammed down over his expression. He pushed away from Thomas, withdrawing.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Nevermind. Just forget it.”

“No, Newt, don’t _do that._” Thomas grabbed his hands, stroking Newt’s knuckles with his thumbs. “Look, I - I know I can’t fix everything, even though, hell, I want to. But please don’t shut me out anymore. It hurts. It makes me think that even after all these years you still don’t trust me.”

Newt deflated.

“It’s too much,” he muttered.

“It’s only too much because you let it get that way.” Newt heard the frustration in Thomas’s voice then. “If you just told me as it happened, instead of letting it build and build - that’s why I _want_ you to tell me, Newt, so it doesn’t get to _be_ too much, so you don’t feel like you have all of these secrets you have to hide, so you never have to feel like you did back in the Maze.” 

Newt bit his lip and looked away. He turned his hand over in Thomas’s, moving his fingers over the knuckles. 

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel that way, really. I promise. I-I’d tell you…”

“Would you?” 

“_Yes._” Newt wiped away the last of his tears with the back of his hand, annoyance building up despite knowing that Thomas was just scared and upset and that he had every right to feel that way. “If I thought it would affect you or Lizzy I would tell you, yes.”

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, then closed it.

“What?” Newt challenged him. “If I can’t hold anything back then neither can you. What were you going to say?”

“That it _already_ affects us!” Thomas blew out a frustrated breath. “Sometimes you can hide it, Newt, but sometimes you really _can’t._ And when I see that your mind is somewhere else all I can do is sit back and wait for you to tell me what’s wrong and then you _never do._ And I’m left wondering if it’s something I did. You know, my mind can drive me crazy too sometimes. I’ve even wondered if there’s someone else you’ve been talking to - ”  
“_Thomas - _”

“Or if I were someone else would that help you? Does being with me…is it…is there something wrong with me?” Thomas softened, looking at Newt with an expression that damn near broke his heart. Newt shook his head, couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“It’s not you, Tommy, it’s me, it’s always been me, I’m just fucked up, always have been. I didn’t know it was making you feel - I’m so fucking _stupid_ sometimes - ”

“Newt, stop - ”

“Daddy?”

Newt and Thomas both froze. They hadn’t heard Lizzy coming into their room and now the little girl stood there at their bedside, rubbing her eyes with one tiny fist and yawning widely, brown curls sticking out every which way.

“Sweetie,” Thomas was instantly in dad-mode, turning away from Newt and sitting up. He felt Newt’s opposite reaction - the blonde rolled over to face the wall - and stifled a frown. “Is everything okay?”

“Were you and dad fighting?”

“No,” he said firmly, and bent over to scoop Lizzy up, depositing her on his lap. “No, sweetie, not at all. We were just talking. I’m sorry if we woke you up.”

Lizzy leaned over, trying to see around Thomas’s shoulder, looking for Newt. When she saw his back turned to them she frowned.

“You’re not asleep, dad, I heard you talking.”

“Ahh, Lizzy, let’s just leave dad alone, okay? He’s - ”

“Is he sad again?”

Thomas felt Newt jerk on the bed next to him like he’d been hit. Thomas had no idea what to say. When he didn’t respond Lizzy continued, her high-pitched voice sounding somehow both frustrated and eerily calm.

“Because Aunt Brenda says that it’s okay he gets sad sometimes - ”

“_Brenda?_” Newt’s voice cracked like a whip. He sat up, turning to face Thomas, purposely avoiding looking down at Lizzy. There was fire in his dark eyes and his mouth curled down into a dangerous frown. Thomas just looked at him sadly, recognizing the hurt behind the anger.

“Newt - ”

“What is _Brenda_ doing talking about me to my daughter, eh? Is it that - is it so _obvious_, then, that everyone talks about it behind my back? Am I that stupid?”

“Calm down,” Thomas said, voice hardening as he cast a significant glance toward Lizzy. He was holding her close to his chest and she was looking from Newt to Thomas with wide eyes. She didn’t appear upset, more curious than anything else, but that didn’t mean Thomas liked it when Newt got this way around her. It was hard seeing Newt like this - it was so rare for him to lose his temper over anything. 

“Calm down,” Newt repeated, muttering, “You’re calm enough for the both of us.” He got out of bed and pulled his jeans on over his boxers, snatching up a shirt from the floor and jamming it on over his head. “I’m going for a walk, and if you see Brenda tomorrow you tell her I need to talk to her. _’Calm down’, ‘he just gets sad sometimes’,_ I mean, _shit_.” Face flushed with embarrassment and anger, Newt continued muttering all the way out of the room without sparing a backwards glance at Thomas and Lizzy. Thomas heard the front door shut and bowed his head with a sigh.

“He’s mad at us,” Lizzy said matter-of-factly. 

“He’s just upset,” Thomas said, stroking her hair. “He’s not mad at you, dear, not at all. He might be a little mad at me, but it’s okay. He just needs some time alone and everything will be alright. People get angry sometimes, it’s not the end of the world.” He wondered who he was trying to convince, especially since Lizzy didn’t look particularly upset. Thomas rested his chin on the top of Lizzy’s head. 

“He loves you very much, you know,” he told their daughter. “This all started because he had a bad dream, one where you got hurt. It scared him.”

“But I’m okay.”

“I know, sweetie, I just want you to know that…your father loves you. More than anything. And so do I.” He squeezed her into a hug. “Even if we sometimes get upset, it has nothing to do with you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know.” Lizzy sounded exasperated and Thomas smiled. 

* * *

Being angry felt good.

He didn’t feel so _helpless_ when he was angry. He didn’t feel so sad, so bloody useless and pathetic when he was angry. He felt alive and capable; he felt like he could take on obstacles in his path, tear them down, leave a trail of dust and splintered wood and cracked stone in his wake. He felt like he had back in the Scorch when he’d been learning to wield a gun, to drive recklessly in a terror-pocked wasteland. 

Being angry felt good.

And that scared Newt down to his very core.

But he was allowed to be angry, wasn’t he? He was allowed to be angry without it being a vestige of the virus that had inflamed his mind with sickening rage. Being angry sometimes was normal, it was healthy. He told himself that over and over again. He was _allowed_ to feel the way he felt, it didn’t make him bad or wrong or sick in some way.

He told himself that, but it never really sank in. He never _really_ believed it. 

Newt kicked a stone, then bent to pick another up and fling it as far as he could.

Sometimes it felt like things had been easier when he’d had a real enemy to fight.

He didn’t return to the house he shared with Thomas and Lizzy until well into the morning. When he walked in through the door he didn’t say anything to them, just went to his room to change and then left almost immediately. He caught a glimpse of Thomas’s face as he went, and felt a pang of guilt at the sadness he saw there. He felt responsible and knew it probably would have been better if he’d stayed a while to talk, but he didn’t have it in him. He was tired from being up all night and his emotions felt frayed; he was worried that if he stopped to chat it would just turn into another argument.

So he left again, hoping that Lizzy and Thomas could eventually forgive him. He wandered the beach, winding his way through the large semi-permanent structures of wood, canvas, and rope, buildings that were open to the elements because they could be because the weather was so mild here in the Safe Haven. Everything seemed so clean, with only the soft, white sand kicking up on the gentle breeze. He didn’t stop to chat with any of the other residents he saw, merely nodding and moving on as if he had somewhere to be. He didn’t, really, although he _was_ looking for someone. He eventually found her as the sun rose towards the midday point.

Newt saw Brenda sitting on a stool with her back turned to him. She didn’t appear to be doing anything, just sitting there with her chin propped on one fist, looking out at the ocean. He walked up behind her, opening his mouth call out to her, but she beat him to the punch.

“Newt.” She spoke without turning around.

Newt stopped short.

“Ah, don’t look so surprised.” Brenda turned around to look at him, giving him a lopsided grin. “I’d recognize those footsteps anywhere.” She cocked her head. “Y’know, I think that limp is getting worse. You’re getting old.”

Newt snorted.

“If I am then so are you, Crone.”

“Geezer.”

They both chuckled. Then there was an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of seabirds calling in the distance, while Newt’s hands twisted in his pockets and Brenda just looked at him, waiting. 

“Bren’, why’d you say that stuff to Lizzy?”

“Someone had to, Lovebird.”

Newt blew out a breath, shaking his head as he looked down.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me. Your ‘Tommy’ came and warned me.” Brenda sounded amused, but Newt thought he caught a flash of something in her dark eyes that looked suspiciously like pity. His own eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t like you talking about me to my daughter behind my back, no.” 

“Newt, every kid has to have someone to talk to that’s not their parents.” She tilted her head. “Benny has you.”

“I don’t tell him things about you,” Newt snapped.

“You could, though. I wouldn’t mind.” Brenda put her hands on her knees and stood up, then leaned casually against one of the wooden poles holding up the large canvas tent, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She seemed to be waiting for something, and Newt reflected on how she’d gotten a lot more patient since the early days when he’d first met her. More comfortable with silence, too. Newt just looked back at her for a while, until eventually the anger he’d been holding onto all night gave way all at once. His shoulders slumped, and he looked more tired than anything else.

“Bren’, did she…did she come to you about it?” 

Brenda shrugged, looking at her nails.

“Sort of. She’s a smart kid.”

“I know.”

“She just said you got quiet sometimes.” Brenda chewed on a hangnail. “You know, Newt, you should talk to her about it. I know you don’t like talking about it, you want to protect her or whatever junk. But it’s really not a big deal. You _make_ it a bigger deal by trying to cover it up. And she’s gonna notice things, no matter how hard you try to hide them. That’s just what kids do.” 

Newt didn’t respond, but he must have looked miserable because Brenda sighed and pushed off from the pole, walking over to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Newt, look, we went through some shit. We’re all fucked up, okay? Every last one of us that was out there.” She jerked her chin out to the ocean, indicating the hell beyond the horizon that they’d all escaped. “And _it’s okay._ I know you want to be strong for your daughter because that’s how I want Benny to see me, too. Like I can handle anything, like I can protect him from anything. And we _can_ and we will but that doesn’t mean we’re not human, too.”

Newt just shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging. He felt like he’d run out of words a long time ago. Brenda dropped her hand from his shoulder with a sigh.

“Alright then, clam up. Do what you want.” She crossed her arms again, canting her weight onto one leg with a tilt to her hips that screamed attitude. “You know what I think, though? I think that you’re all caught up in who you _think_ you should be. The glue, right? The one holding everyone else together? The one holding _Thomas_ together?” She lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips and pointed a finger at him. “Well you can’t pour from an empty cup, friend-o. Maybe you should take a long hard look at what _you_ need - let Thomas do a bit of the holding-together from now on. He’s stronger than you think.”

“I don’t consider him weak,” Newt said, choosing that of all things to respond to. Brenda snorted.

“You treat him like he’s made of glass.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

“So have you. So have all of us - have you been listening to me?”

Newt threw up his hands.

“What exactly do you want me to do, Brenda?”

“_Cut yourself some slack,_ for one. Let yourself fall apart so he can build you back up. That’s how it is for me and Gally, anyway.”

Newt blinked, then arched an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of him.

“You and Gally? You mean, you…” he trailed off, not sure how to put it.

“_Yes,_ you idiot, we’ve had problems like this too.” Brenda rolled her eyes. “You think it was easy for any of us to transition to this life?” She made a sweeping gesture at her surroundings. “We were a damn _army_. We had to fight tooth and nail to survive for so long, and we killed our fair share of people. Me in the Scorch and Gally in the Maze - and then, yeah, in the Scorch as well. Things were real shitty for him for a long time after you all parted ways,” and that was the most diplomatic thing Newt had ever heard Brenda say, “And he’s got some demons, just like you. Just like me. And we don’t want Benny to know that things haven’t always been as good as they are now but you know what? _Screw it!_” She flung up her hands. “It doesn’t matter! He loves us anyway, and we love him, so what does it fucking matter in the end that we’re not always perfect parents, that sometimes we have bad days and fall apart? If anything that’ll just show Benny how to be strong _despite_ going through some shit. That it’s _okay_ not to be fucking perfect all the time.”

“I’m not shooting for ‘perfect’,” Newt said caustically. “I’m shooting for ‘functioning human being’.”

“_Lower your standards,_” she said, punctuating each word by actually poking him in the chest.

“You’re fucking exhausting to talk to, you know that?”

“I know.” And Brenda gave him a feral grin. Newt felt himself shifting back into anger again.

“And have you ever thought why I might have higher standards for myself?”

“I have some ideas, but why don’t you enlighten me.”

Newt got the distinct feeling that he was walking into some sort of trap, but decided he didn’t care.

“Because I was an _actual fucking monster,_ Brenda.” He spat out her name, unable to stop the flood of emotions that always came with the subject. “But you know what? Sometimes I don’t even think that’s the worst thing about me. My body was rotting from the inside out and I tried my hardest to kill the man I love but you know what’s even worse than that? I was a _coward._ Back in the Maze, before any of this started with Tommy, I was a bloody coward. I _gave up._ And even when I decided to do something about it I screwed up. I gave myself this stupid limp instead of actually doing something right for once in my bloody life.”

Brenda was looking at him with a hardened expression and suddenly Newt realized that she hadn’t known. For whatever reason he’d assumed that she’d known, maybe figured it out on her own or Thomas or Gally had told her - but no. She had no idea what a fuck-up he really was.

“You tried to kill yourself,” she stated flatly, her voice quiet so the wind wouldn’t carry it beyond the tent.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding like he’d aged half a century in the past two minutes. “Yeah, I did.”

Brenda worried her bottom lip for about thirty seconds, then nodded. And then she shrugged.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t change what I said before. And it doesn’t change who you are now or how Lizzy sees you. If anything, Newt, that just makes everything you’ve done since then that much more impressive. You’re a goddamn inspiration, dude.”

Newt was floored.

“Sorry,” he said, “I must have hallucinated for a moment.”

“Well, too bad, cuz I’m not gonna say it again.”

“You think that shit is _inspiring?_ You’re mad.” Newt couldn’t believe the woman standing in front of him. “I told you that because I thought you’d understand why I have to keep all this from Lizzy. You start talking to her about me getting sad, you’re opening up a bottomless fucking pit. I can’t talk to her about this. I can barely talk to _Thomas_ about this.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Brenda was nodding along now, “Of course you shouldn’t tell her all that. She’s too young. She wouldn’t understand, and that shit is upsetting, even for me to hear about a friend. Can’t imagine a parent telling you they ever tried to off themselves.”

Even though her words sounded callous, Newt felt a bit of tension unraveling in his chest. He felt like he could breathe a bit easier. It was almost like Brenda…understood. Perfectly, somehow, in a way that Newt never would have expected coming from her.

“But it doesn’t make you a bad person, Newt. That’s just bullshit. I don’t think you even believe it, not really. Not all the way. At least I _hope_ you don’t. If someone around here tried to off themselves you wouldn’t treat them like they were a shitty person, would you? Of course you wouldn’t. You’d _help_ them because that’s what they’d need. _Help._” Brenda sighed, and rubbed her temples with one hand. She started to say something else but Newt cut in.

“Look, Bren’, you don’t have to say anything. I get it, it’s a lot, and it’s my problem. Not yours, not anyone else’s.”

Brenda rolled her eyes at that and actually groaned.

“You goddamn idiot,” she said, shaking her head, her mouth tugging up into a fond smile in contrast with her words. “Just…go talk to Thomas, alright? And don’t be mad at me for talking to Lizzy, cuz shit, that girl is like a never-ending fountain of questions and you should be happy I’m taking some of them off your hands.”

“I’m not mad,” Newt relented. “You’re right, and I’m…I’m glad she has you to talk to.” His mouth twisted into grimace. “Especially since I’m apparently shit at that lately.”

“Listen,” she put a hand on his shoulder again, “I’ll say it one more time, so clean out your ears. We all have bad days. It’s not just you. Don’t _ever_ feel like it’s just you.”

* * *

When Newt finally returned to their little house - one of the first round of proper structures they’d built in the Safe Haven and, so, looking appropriately experimental but decidedly homey - it was to find Thomas there alone, having dropped Lizzy off at the little schoolhouse that had come together a few years ago when it became clear that the residents of the Haven were wasting no time making good on their mission of growing the community. 

Thomas must have begged off from chores for the day because when Newt opened the front door he was sitting at their little table waiting for him. Of course, Thomas never could sit still for long without something to occupy him - specifically those roving, exploring, ever-touching-something hands that Newt adored and worshipped and became weak for when their attention was turned on him - so scattered across the table were various bits and pieces of an old radio, the very hands in question currently occupied by a screwdriver and a circuit board complete with a complicated-looking set of wires sticking out like a mussed-up head of hair.

Despite a sudden desire to hang back and simply watch him as he came to terms with the workings of the machine - never Thomas’s strong suit, that, which was what made it so fascinating to see his eyes glazed over in effort now, his teeth worrying his bottom lip - Newt marched right over and planted himself in Thomas’s lap, enjoying the way Thomas’s amber eyes went wide at the unexpected and frankly out-of-character move. Thomas dropped what he was doing and Newt wrapped his arms around Thomas’s neck, shifting until he was comfortable, and then simply leaned against the brunette’s chest, letting his head rest on Thomas’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, frank and simple. “I’m telling you everything from now on. I haven’t been fair to you, or to Lizzy.” 

One of Thomas’s arms wrapped around his waist while the other came up to stroke his back.

“Wow, Brenda really got through to you, huh?” He asked, just the hint of a teasing smirk in his voice. Newt smacked his chest.

“Don’t be a twat, you’re supposed to reward me for my emotional honesty!” Newt smoothed over the place he’d just hit. “Besides, got enough of that lip from Brenda already. I honestly don’t know how Gally _lives_ with the woman.” Thomas chuckled.

“So what do you need from me, then?” Thomas was running his hands over Newt’s slim frame, a quiet little smile on his face that Newt had difficulty interpreting.

“…Nothing, I suppose,” Newt mused. “Not right now, anyway.” He joined Thomas in trading light touches, tracing his hand up the other man’s bicep and across his chest. “I feel…fine,” he said, testing out his newfound resolution to update Thomas on such inconsequential matters as how he _felt_. 

“Then if I could offer you a suggestion - how about a nap?” Thomas’s mouth quirked up into a fond reprimand. “You look like you could use it. And, anyway,” he continued briskly, shrugging at the radio guts spilled out on the table, “I gotta finish this up for Vince.”

“Homework?” Newt asked wryly.

“Yeah, you know how he is.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “Wants everyone to know how to do everything, just in case.” Vince was so much more of a planner and longterm thinker than Thomas had ever been. Newt just huffed out a laugh, a fond recognition of Thomas’s perennial _impatience_ \- although, he mused to himself, Thomas had grown a lot since those early days. He’d settled surprisingly well into this slow life in the Haven, as if all that adrenaline from escaping the Maze and fighting WCKD and recusing Minho hadn’t really been his true self. That was the man Newt had fallen in love with, sure - but he’d _stayed_ in love with this Thomas, the one who had become such a loving father and careful parent and partner but who was still impatient sometimes, whose thoughts weren’t really contained in his head but played out in a series of actions or turned over in his hands. That physicality had always drawn Newt, but now it almost felt like it was put to better use than when everything had been _go go go - or die_.

“I want to hang out with the guys tonight,” Newt said suddenly. “You know, the whole Glader gang. Minho and Gally and Frypan, everyone.” _Everyone who’s left._

“You got it,” Thomas said, planting a kiss on the end of Newt’s nose. “Am I invited?”

Newt raised an eyebrow.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he said wryly. “What a dumb shank question. You’re as much a part of the gang as anyone.”

“I was only in the Glade a few days,” Thomas reminded him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Newt shook his head, then shrugged. “We adopted you, so you’re stuck with us. Sorry.”

“Oh no, how terrible,” Thomas replied, tracing a hand up Newt’s arm. “I’d hate to have to spend more time with a shuck-face like you.”

The Glader slang made Newt smile.

“I’ll spread the word,” Thomas said, placing both hands on Newt’s hips and giving him a pat. “Maybe Brenda wouldn’t mind watching Lizzy for us tonight. For now, though,” Thomas darted forward to place a chaste kiss on Newt’s lips, “It’s off to bed with you, mister. That’s an order.” He began shooing Newt off his lap, and Newt went with all the grace of a cat being shooed from a particularly choice and sunny perch.


End file.
